I am training the Husband. Wish me luck.

The LOML has been consistently late all week after telling me he would be home “early”, he has broken my back door lock because he is a clumsy clod and this morning he almost returned MY new generation iPod Nano to his friend instead of the ten year-old shuffle he borrowed several weeks ago “by mistake”.

The dog Jarvis is nothing but a common thief.

Late on Saturday afternoon, the Teen and her friends returned home from a shopping spree in Ringwood and asked if I would take them to the beach hut.

Because I miss our days out together when the Teen thought I was great and not an embarrassing burden I agreed and bundled the girls and the dog in the car and headed to Friars Cliff.

As we sauntered off in the direction of the beach hut, so delighted that he was beside the seaside, my beautiful boy began pulling on his lead.

“Girls help me I am slipping in my flip flops,” I shrieked, as I ran down the hill before the dog had me over.

“Stop letting Jarvis pull you, Mum. Be firm.”

“Help me, help me,” I cried out, clutching at twigs to keep upright before the dog bolted in the direction of a family group and a barbecue.

Trying to keep my dignity in flip flops I galloped after him, calling him and offering him his treats to the deaf dog. The girls fled in the opposite direction.

The family group had descended into chaos. Jarvis was in a state of frenzied excitement.

Breathless and apologetic I reached the scene, but I was too late.

“He’s stolen a burger,” shrieked one teenage boy.

“I am so sorry, so sorry. Jarvis come here!”

He ignored me and carried on wolfing down the piping hot family supper.

Three of us eventually pinned him down. Mortified I put him back on his lead and skulked off with my tail between my legs.

The dog’s was wagging merrily, delighted with his contraband goodies.

My mood with the dog lasted about 30 seconds. I can’t resist him you see, with that cute, firm body, shimmering black hair, taut muscles, moist lips and eyes that ooze affection.

My mood with the LOML has lasted 12 days.

He evidently needs to be more licky and waggy and less of a bumbling bi-ped.

Still, he’s responding to training and has learned to pant heavily, usually as I open the cheque book.

I may let him up on the furniture soon.

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